


Alright, it's time to wake up.

by Chaos23_M



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Depression, M/M, Rape Aftermath, Underage Sex, and sad, contains a lot of triggering things, graphic depictions of rape, i think, i wrote this a long time ago and just found it and what the hell, idek anymore, imma post it, it's even funny at times, kinky smut, whole lot of consentual smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 09:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16951113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaos23_M/pseuds/Chaos23_M
Summary: Louis's a lawyer on a mission.Harry just wants out.They haven't seen eachother in five years and in that time everything changed except their love. Their love was just on standby, waiting for life to nudge them back to eachother's arms again. And it did, but at what cost...





	Alright, it's time to wake up.

**Author's Note:**

> Yo guys, i posted this a few years back and i took it down soon after because this is the only fictional work i've ever written, and because i'm insecure about sharing the things i write online. But, i found this stored on my drive and said fuck it. I hope you all enjoy it! <3

“Mr. Tomlinson, your boyfriend’s here!”

Lindsey, Mr. Tomlinson’s assistant, a lovely lady really, says with a not-really-knowing smile, as she walks past Mr. most-famous-lawyer-at-25 also known as Mr. Louis Tomlinson.

‘A not-really-knowing smile’ because _one_ , Zayn is not Louis’ boyfriend, and _two_ , _ew_ \- they’re like brothers - but anyways, the only one who calls Louis ‘Mr. most-famous-lawyer-at-25’ is sadly himself.

But.

Semantics.

“He is _not_ my boyfriend.” Louis brushes past her with a full intention to go down the hallway to his office while ignoring her usual remarks, and meet said _not boyfriend,_ but not before he hears her wonder out loud: “Only sex would make up for putting up with your personality, so a fuck-buddy maybe…”

He musters up enough will to ignore her, and continues his walk down the hall.

And when he gets there, right in front of the door to his office, just like always, he stops for a second.

Just for a second, he imagines something else entirely.

See, for one split second, everyday, he imagines _him_ , in his big office.

All of his papers and hard work are on the floor next to the mahogany desk upon which _he_ is sitting with his legs crossed, his shirt half unbuttoned, and a bashful smile plastered on his face.

But when his ‘one split second’ of the day is over, and he opens the door that has ‘Malcolm Cassidy’ written on it, (when is his _real_ office going to be ready? Really, it’s been seven months…) he finds his best friend, Zayn, sitting in the only chair in the shoebox-sized office, rolling a joint on the desk that never has, and probably never will, see any action whatsoever.

Besides having a joint rolled on it obviously.

“Zayn, you do know I work for the government, right?”

“If by ‘government’ you mean idiots who let me get inside of the building with weed then…” Zayn mumbles something more Louis doesn’t even bother to decipher, and continues his three-steps walk to the edge of the desk and leans on it so he can face him.

“I’m officially a grown-up, I need to take all of this more seriously, you know.”  There's no malice in his voice. Just exhaustion.

He doesn’t have to stretch at all to open the window that’s behind Zayn (it’s really a small office), careful not to whack him in the head (which he does contemplate for a moment).

 “Say that one more time, maybe it’ll become true.”

“Fuck you Zayn,” and he really means ‘ _thank you, today’s been awful.’_

“Fuck you too, mate.” And what Zayn really means is ‘ _Fuck you too, mate.’_

The moment Zayn finishes his masterpiece, he says: “I’m taking you to meet Liam today.”

 _‘Finally_ ’, Louis thinks.

“And the joint is for _me_ because you want to prevent him from falling in love with me. So you’d rather have him be weirded out by me narrating a clock for ten minutes then in love with me?” and Louis puts his hand on his heart and he would really look hurt to anyone else but Zayn.

“No, the joint is for me because usually the first impression you leave makes people hate your guts, and I can’t face this disaster sober.” Zayn pockets the joint into his cigarette pack.

“Really?”

“No? I’m just nervous,“ he starts but Louis interrupts with: “Ha! Knew it!” but Zayn just continues with:

“..And what better way for my two favorite people to meet and bond than over a joint and fifa?”

Which is a good point.

Zayn _is_ actually nervous, _a lot_.

But Louis won’t push him further because apparently, the Bradford-bad-boy slash pothead slash tortured artist, is really in _love_ this time.

See, Louis would describe Zayn as the most compassionate, kind hearted friend anyone could ask for, but the world usually fails to see that.

 Zayn’s hot alright. He is beautiful with his sharp cheek bones and his prominent jawline and his long, almost feminine legs, with just enough toned muscles on his almost golden skin to make people believe he's Adonis in disguise.

He’s wanking material. A fantasy people don’t bother to get to know of enough to take home to meet the family and build a life with. He’s usually just somebody you meet in a club and take home for the night before the sun rises and real life knocks upon the door.

Which is quite unfair. But it is what it is.

Zayn’s quite shy and reserved, some would even say mysterious, but he’s really just an introvert with a heart of gold.

And he’s never had a serious relationship up until three months ago.

That’s when Liam came along and swept him off his feet.

Literally.

Zayn works in a small coffee shop where nothing ever happens worth talking about.

He works behind the counter, in the storage room, at the tables, with a mop in his hand, and it's quite dull and not even close to Zayn's creative ambitions.. but it pays the bills.

It's dull alright, nothing interesting ever happens there.

But, this one time three months ago during rush hour, Zayn was running from one table to the next to take the orders, run to the counter to make the orders, back to the tables again and _whoosh_ – that’s when Liam happened.

Swept him off the floor, himself including.

Literally.

Liam’s coffee to go was all over Zayn’s work top, so the nice thing to do was to offer his spare t-shirt which was in his sports bag that he was carrying.

Which was quite convenient really.

Liam planned that whole thing right down to the fact that he waited like, half an hour for his coffee to turn cold so that he wouldn’t burn the poor, beautiful lad that made his coffee for him every day before his work out session at the nearby gym.

 _Nearby_ is actually twenty minutes away from his flat but people in love do all sorts of crazy shit.

And the plan had actually worked.

Zayn borrowed the t-shirt and promised he would give it back (but never actually did).

Because Liam asked him out on a date that exact moment, and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and Zayn the poor lad was still stuck in the rush hour so he had to think quick and ended up agreeing.

They went out, fell for each other hard and fast, and the rest is history.

Or something like that.

It would be the same history Louis knows almost nothing about.

He knew they’re together, happy, in love, but Zayn had to test Liam of course before he was 100% sure to introduce him to Louis. 

See, Louis can be a handful sometimes and Zayn had to be sure Liam plans to stick around before he met the equivalent of a crazy-aunt every parent hates but children actually worship.

Which brings us to the present, where Louis is actually the equivalent of a child that got their favorite toy for Christmas - because he’s finally going to meet the boy that stole his best friends’ heart away.

“Lock’s still broken?” Zayn asked as they made their way out of the cramped up office.

“Nothing worth stealing there anyways.”

Louis could hear a faint: “Bye Zaynie!” from Lindsey a minute after, but he chose to ignore that as they walked out of the building he hated, but had to tolerate for the sake of his family’s well being.

Louis is the eldest of five, with a mum working two jobs since he could remember and a father that he never met. His sisters have a different father though - a guy who didn’t bother to stick around when things got bad and that’s that.

His family is his everything, his mother is his hero, and that’s why he’s working a job he hates to help support the family he loves.

He’s actually a pretty decent lawyer, professional and wise. He did lose only one case since he started working for the ‘Madison and James’.

 Every month half of his pay goes to the family household which is in Doncaster, his hometown, and the other half he uses himself to pay the bills and occasionally buy something nice for his sisters and mum.

Or an apartment for himself.

He did win three really, really big cases, and yet the company staff still hates him.

Ok, they don’t hate him per se, they just hate the fact that _a kid straight out of uni_ got a job through a friend of a friend, and rose above them all in a blink of eye.

 _His office is just not ready yet_ or something like that. For seven months it hasn’t been ready.

But he’ll wait.

Louis Tomlinson is everything but impatient. He acts like a child most of the time, but that’s reserved for when he’s with Zayn, his family, and occasionally Lindsey.

Was reserved for someone else too, but that was a long time ago. For the rest of the world he really is just _Mr. Tomlinson_ , a force not to be reckoned with.

He takes his job seriously, no matter how much he whines about it constantly (usually to Zayn, like almost every second of the day. Zayn deserves a medal. Or two.), and he becomes Mr. Tomlinson every day. And _Mr. Tomlinson_ is someone people hate, someone full of themselves, annoyingly polite, arrogant, self righteous, fierce and brilliant at what they do.

Someone who always wins.

Well except that one time.

Louis Tomlinson on the other hand, well.

Louis Tomlinson is someone that almost no one really knows, and someone Louis Tomlinson himself doesn’t want anyone to know.

Louis Tomlinson is currently cursing the red light.

“Come fucking on, the traffic’s shit today, the fuck is this!?”

Zayn, who called shotgun half an hour before, (“Zayn you’re the only one besides me in this car”, “It’s a habit Lou”) is currently sitting shotgun and not paying attention to Louis because he’s too busy with his phone.

_Texting Liam probably._

“Are you texting Liam?”

“Your mum actually.” comes Zayn’s response.

“Mate, that is so wrong on so many levels...” And Louis would gladly say more but the light’s finally green so he loses his track of thought and yells: “Fucking finally!”

But Zayn continues in a manner that promises a serious talk for which the driver is definitely not in the mood for.

“No, really, your mum just texted me a recipe for some banana flavored cupcakes I asked her for, _and_ she’s worried about you..”

“You are texting my mom, and that is perfectly normal, yeah.” He grimaces and finally takes the turn that leads to Liam’s house.

“Well if you would call her more you’d know she’s worried about you not calling her more” that sounded funny but Zayn actually turns serious.

“Oh, I know that without her telling me that. I’ve got you to tell me that every day.” And so does Louis.

“Well, you should call her more.” He states as Louis pulls the car over and they unfasten their seatbelts.

“I would if I weren’t so busy every single second of my pathetic life.” Louis slides out of the car and doesn’t turn around to see if his best friend follows.

Like it’s _his_ boyfriend Zayn’s meeting not the other way around.

“It’s not pathetic. You just need to get laid and you’ll be okay.”

And Zayn doesn’t even ring the bell twice for Liam to appear and open the door for them. If that wasn’t love right there, then it must be how he gave his boyfriend a soft peck on the cheek; just close enough  to his mouth for it to scream _love_.

And Louis already knows that he needs to be really, _really_ high to be able to endure all of it; the lovely glances, soft pecks on the cheeks and various body parts he’s sure he’ll see in his periphery vision when they think he’s not looking, and all the general lovey-dovey-ness that makes his stomach churn with a wishful thought of puking afterwards.

He’s excited, yes, and a little bit jealous too.

 

 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

_I love you._

_You gave me your heart, and that's enough._

_I love you._

_We're going to fight for us?_

_I love you._

_Come back._

_Goodbye, Lou._

He wakes up like he’s still drowning, like he’s trying to come up for air for the first time in his life, like there’s a force still pulling him in and he can’t breathe..

It was just a dream, but he brought the sea with him. His body is wet, his sheets are wet, his eyes are wet. But the sea is not sleeping soundly next to him. The sea he wishes to drown himself in voluntarily, the sea he misses and loves - is the sea he left behind.

He jumps out of the bed and trips on his boots but he has no time for falling right now, so he almost runs straight to the bathroom, and opens the toilet lid, gets on his knees and coughs _so hard_ but nothing comes out. Now he’s just trying to breathe again but, he’s still choking, and crying and trying to get his breathing under control before finally vomiting the one last drop of alcohol in his system.

He’s still crying when he feels like there’s nothing left in his stomach. He reeks of sweat and vomit and he just wants to be okay again. He gets up and flushes the toilet and turns around to the sink and _tries_ to avoid catching his reflection in the mirror while he washes the taste out of his mouth.

  _Tries_ being the key word.

When he’s finished washing his mouth and face and he’s finally stopped crying, he lifts his head and looks at himself properly.

The bags under his eyes are dark and prominent. There’s vomit in his long curly hair. His face has no meat on in. It’s blank, dull, and there are sharp edges to it that have never been before. He’s only wearing tight black boxers that should look good but don’t. His arms and legs look too skinny and his chest definitely too thin. His skin is pale, and his eyes are full of tears that are sliding down his hollow cheeks, again.

Harry Styles, the most famous out-and-proud solo music artist in the UK, contemplates suicide once more before the sun even began to rise.

He wipes his dainty wrists beneath his eyes and promises himself once again that he will survive, that it will get better, and that it will all be okay someday…

That _that_ _someday_ will come in three days.

Three days and he’s free.

Free to sign with whomever he pleases. Free from the stunts and bad publicity. Free from the set-ups and vultures that are only after the money he began to despise. Free to make and release the music he really wants to or free to remove himself from the music industry entirely.

Free.

He doesn’t bother washing his face once more, he just strips himself and gets in the bathtub and takes a shower. He washes his hair first, thoroughly, and scrubs his skin until it aches. He doesn’t bother with touching himself, he hasn’t done that in a long time. He spends the next twenty minutes just standing, letting the hot water relax him and clear his head.

When he gets out of the tub he makes a mental note to clean the toilet as soon as possible, and probably the floor, when he feels a bit better.

He goes to the bedroom, which is connected to the bathroom, and opens a cabinet with clean towels, takes one out, dries himself off and throws it in the hamper. He finds clean white boxers and puts them on.

He goes back to the bathroom and picks up his dirty underwear from the floor and then back in to bedroom, and on his way picks up his shoes he tripped over earlier and puts them in front of the dresser, the dirty underwear in the hamper.

Then he strips his bed and throws the sheets in the hamper too.

Next, he remakes the bed with clean sheets.

The hamper is full now, he should probably do the laundry soon.

 When he’s satisfied he goes back to the bathroom and cleans it too. Thoroughly.

When he’s finished, the sun is already up in the sky, and he leaves his bedroom to go to the kitchen and make breakfast.

The rest of his house is clean, it seems like he didn’t break anything last night when he got back from yet another after party for the awards he didn’t bother to learn the name of.

He quickly makes himself eggs on toast, and goes to the living room to eat.

 His laptop sits upon the table in front of a couch and it’s open, which is weird because Harry doesn’t remember using it last night.

Then again he doesn’t remember much of last night at all, which is probably a good thing.

He presses the on button and it boots in a few seconds to show an article.

And then it hits him.

He didn’t get drunk at the after party, he actually left early. He got drunk on liquor he keeps in the flat after he got home. He doesn’t feel like eating anymore.

After the party, he got home and looked up Louis Tomlinson.

The most famous lawyer at 25.

He’s doing well. He’s found a facebook page, which is locked of course but his profile picture is of him and his sisters, for Christmas maybe? There are fairy lights in the background so…

His eyes start to tear up again.

Seems like all he does these days is cry.

Lottie looks so grown up, and Fizzy is wearing make-up obviously and he can’t tell Phoebe and Daisy apart anymore. And Louis… Louis still looks beautiful.

Eyes still a sea drawing him in, and a smile that shines so bright…

He looks happy. He probably is happy.

Harry wishes he’s happy.

His phone rings suddenly, Kodaline’s ‘play the game’ echoes throughout the apartment, and Harry shuts his laptop and starts searching around the room. He finds it beneath the couch right when it stops ringing.

He scrolls to unlock and sees two missed calls from his guitarist and best friend Niall, and a missed call from Sally, his manager and head of his pr team. She works for the company that ruined him, but she always seemed to fight for him and his best interests in any way she could.

She wanted him to be free of his management just as much as he did.

Hers is the most recent call, and it’s only 6 am, so he calls her back right away.

She picks up with: “Thought you were dead.”

“Sadly, no.” he answers and sets back onto the couch.

“Don’t joke with that.” She scolds him.

“You started it.” He yawns.

“Well I wasn’t joking.”

“Why are you calling, I’m in LA, it’s 6am here.”

“I have news. There’s a management that wants to snatch you by any means necessary, and this will sound weird, but I advise you to sign with them.”

He straightens his back against the couch, now he’s curious. “Why?”

Yesterday she advised him not to sign with anyone, ever. She said that as soon as his current contract is over the best thing for him is to just bail and never return.

“They’re called Jamesy, they seem decent, well, for a management team, they’ll be…”

There’s sound of traffic and she says something Harry can’t pick up.

“Repeat that will you?”

“Sorry, I pulled a few strings and they’ll be sending someone to you later today to talk it out, see if you want to sign with them.”

She pauses and suddenly there’s no traffic. She’s calm when she states the obvious.

“It’s going to get ugly Harry, do not read the papers and stay offline. They are trying to make you impossible to sign with, they want to ruin you and they _will_ , but these guys at Jamesy, they know that and they _still_ want you. You’ll have about a month at least to think about it, maybe more, and if in that time you still want to perform then I say sign with them. They’re your only chance Harry.”

And he listens to her carefully, and knows she’s right. It’s a miracle she found them, but she did promise she would do everything in her power to ensure his career exists even after this contract ends.

“Yeah, I know alright..” he whispers.

“You are made to perform Harry, you have a gift, it would be a shame to waste it. Use this free time to get yourself together, and come back stronger, yeah?”

“Yeah.” And he hangs up on her, because he’s crying again, and she can’t hear him cry, _again_.

He’s crying when he hangs up and looks for something online to cheer him up. He’s crying when he checks his accounts and sees all of the awful things people are saying about him, what the papers are writing about him.

And he’s crying when he checks his emails because he finds out Louis Tomlinson is bringing the first draft of a contract he is supposed to sign.

 

 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

_He wakes up late for work._

_Louis Tomlinson is never late for work_.

“Apparently you are” _Liam laughs from somewhere, where is he again?_

_Oh, no, he’s not late for work, he’s so high he can touch the stars, so he only thinks he’s late for work, right.._

“Do you realize you’re talking in third person when you’re high, _and_ have a tendency to narrate everything?” _Zayn laughs too, from somewhere, where Liam is… wherever that is._

_Where am I again?_

“You’re at my place, and we’re trying to sleep dipshit”, _was that Liam? Oh God, I’ll be late for work tomorrow, and I’ll get fired and I’ll die alone and not even Liam and Zayn will cry, and I am so tired, we should all sleep, I could sleep like a cock, I mean a rock, ha! cock, rock, cock, rock_

The next morning finds Louis Tomlinson all too soon. He peels his eyelids open and goes to the bathroom to take a shower, take a piss and wash his mouth. He’s not awake yet, he only appears to be.

He’s awake only after he drags his ass out of Liam’s house, leaving Zayn and Liam both peacefully asleep, cuddled on the couch, (Louis slept on the floor, of course, that’s why his back hurts like a bitch) and as he gets in his car he realizes he’s not actually late for work, but half an hour early.

But. The traffic is a bitch again, and he’s almost late for work, but miraculously isn’t.

As soon as he gets in to the building he gets Lindsey to get him coffee, and she gladly obliges _and_ happily tells him that his office is finally ready.

Yes, the big one with the mahogany desk and a couch and a beautiful view on the third floor.

_Now this is the type of morning Louis can get behind._

He thought too soon apparently, because the next thing that happens is one of his superiors, a co-owner of the company, James, cornering him in his new office, telling him to go home and pack because he’s going to LA for a few days because his wife needs a deal to get signed.

To help his wife’s company, Louis’ supposed to go and get some bratty teenage pop sensation sign a contract that he’s supposed to go through, learn by heart and sweeten as much as he can because he’s Mr. Louis Tomlinson, and Mr. Louis Tomlinson always wins. (Except that one time.)

See, Louis Tomlinson is a strong person, he rarely shows his emotions and almost never acts upon them, but as soon as James leaves his office with having said the name of said bratty teenage pop sensation, something breaks inside of Louis Tomlinson.

He doesn’t kick the mahogany desk, nor does he trash the papers that are neatly placed upon it. He doesn’t punch a wall, and he doesn’t scream.

He just feels his heart rip. He starts to feel a wound in his heart that never really healed, open and he feels it bleeding out, and he wants to cry, and punch and scream, but he doesn’t.

He has read the papers and he's seen what has been written about him. He saw the scandals and what people say about him.

And he never believed it. Not for a second would he ever believe that Harry Styles, his once best friend, boyfriend, soul-mate, would turn out to be a rude, self-centered, arrogant asshole.

Or a drug addict.

Or a manwhore.

His heart breaks because he _knows_ none of it is true, and yet there are people swearing on their lives it all is. His heart breaks because he hasn’t seen him in five years. His heart breaks because he doesn’t know how will he bear to see him again.

Louis’ life is good now, and he’s _sure_ that Harry is handling himself alright too. That he has people who care about him, that he’s strong enough to fight a war with his management, sign with another one and still come out on top.

 He _knows_ , because his manager tells him that every time he calls her to check up on him.

Which is something he doesn’t have a right to do, but does anyway.

He used to do it every month, now it’s every three months or so, but Sally always says that he’s alright, he has a boy with him and they’re happy.

His heart breaks every time he calls and hears her parrot those same words.

_He’s alright, he has a boy with him and they’re happy._

And he imagines someone strong.

Strong enough to hold Harry up against the wall as he fucks into him, and strong enough to hold him in his arms when the world gets too much.

Because Louis used to be that. His anchor, his go to person, his best friend and ally. And as much as his heart breaks to even think about someone else touching Harry, kissing him, wiping his tears away; he wishes they are someone Harry loves.

Someone who loves Harry for who he _is,_ not for his money or fame.

Louis is respectable enough to have favors owed to him. If he wanted to pass the job to someone else it would be easy to just ask Michaela on the second floor to go in his place, but if he did that, he would pass his one shot to see Harry again, to just see him happy.

Breathe the same air as him.

See him happy, and be happy for him.

That is not healthy and he knows it.

He is stuck in his past and he can’t _let him go_ , like everyone thinks he already once has.

It’s like his whole life is dedicated to looking out for him, making sure he’s happy and safe, that he ended up forgiving him the moment he walked out of his house, that one godforsaken night, when it all seriously went to shit.

When Harry left.

That is not healthy and he _knows_ it.

Yet he goes to James and decides on doing it anyway, so James gives him the plane ticket and the contract, fills him in and sends him on his way.

Louis goes straight home, and starts packing his overnight bag; he won’t be staying long anyway.

When he’s finished packing, there are still three hours before he’s due to get to the airport, so he goes to the bathroom to take a shower.

And there’s really no need for one, he showered already at Liam’s that morning.

Except, there really is a need for one.

A cold one.

But the hot water just feels too good, and he knew he just had to get it over with, he hadn’t thought about _him_ in so long, not like _that_.

So he wraps a hand around himself and starts out slow. Just like they used to when he was nineteen, with his lap full of Harry Styles, just teasing each other.

_They would start out slow, just kissing, softly moaning into each other’s mouths, with Harry shyly grinding down on him, until Louis would get his mouth on his neck and suck love bites as much as he wanted._

_Just when he would get to that spot that drives Harry mad, right below his ear, where his jaw and neck meet, Harry would start whimpering ’Please, Lou’  and Louis would know it’s his cue to start touching him, that Harry is ready for more._

_He would place his hands on his clothed thighs, drag them to his hips beneath his t-shirt, down again to his thighs and then finally his crotch. And Harry would start moaning, whimpering, and start bucking his hips, his straining cock into Louis’ hand._

_“Please, Lou, please”_

_Louis would unzip his jeans and ask him if that’s alright, and Harry would cry out a “Yes”, and then he would finally touch Louis back, get him out of his joggers and start pumping him fast, using his precome as lubricant, flicking his wrist all the right ways and fucking in to Louis’ own hand, and he would cum so hard, and he would cry out so loud…_

Like Louis right now, gasping for breath, with his whole body convulsing, feeling it in his toes, in the pit of his stomach, in his white-covered hand, in his whole body.

It’s been a long time since he came that hard and thought about _those_ times with Harry.

It’s been a long time in the shower too, because he’s freezing and he has a plane to catch in two hours.

Which he does.  

He sleeps through most of the flight, and tries not to think about what Harry is doing in that exact moment: If he’s warm, happy, in a post orgasmic bliss, If he’s _home_.

Well, he _tries._

He’s supposed to go to Harry’s flat in the evening, and before that, check in to a hotel and catch an hour or two of sleep. Which is easier said than done.

He goes to the hotel and takes up on his company’s reservation, and when he gets to his room he can’t sleep. He can’t watch shitty tv, he can’t shut off his brain for a second.  So he just lounges around till it’s time to leave.

Because in two hours he will see his curly haired boy again.

And still calling him _his_ curly haired boy is definitely not healthy, but Louis could never stop himself. That kind of love never really stops.

And nothing could’ve prepared him for this, for seeing Harry in person, again after five years.

He’s still as beautiful as the day he left, standing on his doorstep in black skinny jeans and a black half unbuttoned shirt.

Harry still looks beautiful, but he’s crying, and the only thing Louis’ sure of in that moment, is to hug him.

Hug him tight and will himself not to cry also, because Harry’s still beautiful; but he seems too thin, unhealthy.

Harry’s arms are around his neck and Louis’s are splayed on his back, and they hold each other tight, for the first time in so long, they just hold each other.

There’s snot on Louis’ dress shirt when Harry removes his head from his shoulder and they both start at the same time:

“Oops.”

“Hi.”

“Sorry about that. Come on in.” Harry invites him in, wipes his eyes like he’s ignoring the fact that he just broke down a second ago, and walks in front of Louis.

If there weren’t history between them and that breakdown a few moments ago, Louis would think he really is there just to do a job like any other previous one, and leave.

Harry leads him as Louis follows through the one bedroom (?) flat.

It’s smaller than his own, and he isn’t even famous. He expected more from a rich popstar, which he doesn’t realize but says out loud.

“Why? Do you also expect three guys to emerge from my bedroom?” he jokes, but it’s clear it’s not meant to be taken as a joke.

And Louis stops dead in his tracks, in the middle of the living room and tries to _think_. He takes a good look at the flat Harry lives in, because he can’t meet his eyes yet.

It’s clean, with minimal furniture around. There’s a flatscreen tv, there’s a couch and an empty glass table in front of it, a big window with a bookshelf next to it, a green rug beneath his feet. The walls are white, there are no framed photos, or books lying out of place. There’s almost no color at all.

It definitely looks lived in, but also looks like Harry doesn’t spend much time around, Louis concludes.  Then he finally searches for Harry’s eyes.

Harry Styles, the boy he once loved. Boy he still loves, with all of his heart.

“What the fuck happened to you?” and he doesn’t mean for it to come out that harsh, but _what the fuck happened to him?_

“Show business. I’m a puppet, give me a contract and I’ll be yours too.”

He sits down on the white pristine couch and looks through Louis. His eyes are full of tears he pushes back; he won’t spoil this. Louis is here on business, and he has a role to play.

“What happened to you?” Louis repeats his question, softer this time, still standing in the middle of the room, still waiting for an honest answer.

“I don’t know.” Harry shrugs, and bows his head down when a tear escapes and he tries to hide it.

“I know we..” Louis starts, but chokes, so he walks around the glass table and sits next to Harry on the couch.

He takes a deep breath and tries again: “I know we ended up badly, but it’s me Haz,” and the old nickname escapes his lips so easily, like no time had passed at all.

“But it’s me alright? Yeah?”

And Harry lifts his head, and lifts his feet on the couch and hugs his knees, like he’s trying to hide himself, to appear smaller so that when Louis gets closer he can wrap him in his arms, like he used to do a long while back.

And Louis does exactly that.

Harry breaks down instantly, big, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, again.

And it’s the first time he’s seeing Louis in _so long_ , and _that’s_ what he does. Harry would scold himself if he were just a bit more clear-headed.

Louis rocks him, like he would a child and asks again: “What happened to you?”

“Please Lou, I need.. please.” He’s mumbling in his neck, sobbing.

“What do you need, love? Tell me how can I help?” Louis’ eyes are teary and his heart breaks.

“I just need it all to be over, I can’t take this anymore, please.”

“You’re safe with me,” he starts, while Harry just repeats “Please, I'm sorry, please don’t leave”

 ”Hey Haz, baby, I’m here, I’m here” and they’re both crying now.

“I need to know what happened, alright? I need to know what’s true from the papers and what isn’t, ‘cause we’re going to fix this all, alright?” Harry’s shaking now, violently sobbing into Louis’ shoulder.

 “We’re going to fight whatever happened. You wouldn’t let me fight for you before, but I need you to let me now, okay, love?” Louis promises.

And Harry’s clutching to Louis’ shirt for dear life and still crying when he nods his head ‘yes’ and continues with begging for him not to leave.

His dainty fingers are closed in tight fists and Louis holds him, holds him as tight as he can and speaks to him, so softly and full of love, because he should have never believed Harry’s manager. Because that fucker lied through her teeth every single time he called.

Harry is not alright, probably hasn't been in a very long time, and it’s time to take him home.

The long haired boy sags and sobs into Louis’ arms for a long time, before he stops asking him to stay and falls asleep from utter exhaustion. And all of it leaves a bitter taste in Louis' mouth and a tear in his chest, and guilt wrapping around him as tight as he's clutching to Harry in his arms right now.

But Harry looks peaceful asleep like this. Protected for the first time in a log time.

And somehow that’s all that matters now.

His sea is finally back, and he’s finally drowning.

 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

The last time Harry slept through the night without a single nightmare waking him up was a _very_ long time ago.

The last time Harry woke up on the couch was also a very long time ago, for a good reason at that too, because now he has his bad back saying _‘hello, I hurt, please shoot me’_ which is not pleasant at all.

He wakes up alone, with a blanket draped over his body and with Louis nowhere in sight. He begins thinking that he imagined it all, that he drank a little too much last night, _again_ , but he sees a bag in front of his bookshelf that doesn’t belong there, and he smells.. pancakes?

He wipes the sleep out of his eyes and heads for the kitchen where he finds Louis finishing with washing the dishes, and he turns his head and smiles at him.

“Slept alright?”

“Better than most nights, yeah.” which is true even with back pain he endures.

He goes to the sink and maneuvers himself around Louis to fill a glass of water to drink, and sits on the counter sill a bit further away from the sink, and waits for Louis to say something, anything.

Louis finishes rinsing the last plate and as he puts it away he turns around and nods to the table with an apologetic smile.

“I made pancakes, they’re not very good looking but they taste alright.”

“Are you going to say anything?” Harry snaps his head at him.

“I don't understand, I just did.” Stern voice follows.

“Louis,” he starts but gets interrupted immediately.

“I said, I made pancakes”, with an aggressive note to his tone, “You’re going to eat, take a shower, then pack. I’m taking you home.” He simply states.

 If he thinks that acting like Harry is a child is going to lead him somewhere, well, it won't, and Harry says so.

“You’re right, you’re not a child." He wipes his hands on a rag. "But you look like shit, your flat is shit, you’re a mess, and I need you to _let me_ take you home.” He says that with a desperate tone, because he _needs_ Harry to want this.

Harry doesn’t say anything, just focuses on a spot on the floor and listens.

“You need to sort your shit out Haz, and I can’t watch over you here, so I’m taking you with me. “

When Harry still doesn’t say anything, Louis snaps.

“Did you hear a word I said? Are we clear on this?” and there’s no real venom in his words.

The only thing that Harry hears in that tone is _‘I’m going to help you, let me help you.’_ And it’s exactly what he needs.

So he nods his head, and Louis exits the kitchen to do god-know-what while Harry gets up from the counter to sit down at the table and eat. It will be more than he ate in the last three days combined.

When he washes his empty plate, he goes through the living room and finds Louis on his phone. They don’t say a word to each other as Harry passes him to go to his room to take that shower.

For the first time in a long time, Harry finds himself in the bathtub quickly rinsing his hair and scrubbing his skin, careful to avoid his crotch because he wants to touch himself _so badly_ in that moment. His cock is getting filled slowly and he almost forgot how it looks like when it’s fully hard with its red tip and purple vein.

He wants to just envelop it with his skinny hand and pump himself so slow he makes himself cry out of frustration. He wants Louis to hear him moan, and he wants him to storm inside and push his back against the wall, lift his leg up and find his hole with skilled fingers he used to suck on, finger him till he blacks out, touch all the right places, find his spot and abuse it like he used to do, till he comes just from his voice saying what he will do to him next.

He wants to, but he doesn’t, because he _can’t feel that again,_ not on his own.

Because the last time he tried _that_ , he had a panic attack, cried himself to unconsciousness with his cum all over his hand and stomach, with memories of men he never really wanted to be taken by flooding his mind.

He’d rather never come again than feel so dirty and used that he pukes all over the bathtub again.

So he just washes himself, scrubs the marks that faded a long time ago, the marks he still feels, still _remembers_. Every touch, every stroke, every bruise.. He feels sick to his stomach.

So he does end up vomiting.

This time the pancakes Louis made him, and he feels even more guilty afterwards.

He’s soft after that.

He gets out, dries himself off, blow dries his hair, dresses himself in some old dark skinny jeans and a warm lavender jumper, puts  his chelsea boots (that have seriously seen better days) on, and packs one bag with only the necessities.

He’s not sure if he’ll stay with Louis long.

People get fed up easily with him these days. Louis hasn’t seen him in what.. five years? He’s bound to snap and realize he’s made a mistake with taking Harry to… London?

The first thing he asks when he reappears in the living room is that

“Where are you taking me?”

”Home,” comes the response from the man on the couch still with his nose in his phone.

The green eyed boy sits down on the opposite end of the couch “And that is in London where you live now?”

“Doncaster. I’m taking you back to Doncaster, I have a house there, close to mums.”

“And what about your job? Who’s going to babysit me when you’re away?” he starts picking his nails.

“Fuck my job. I’ll be your only babysitter.” He’s still not looking away from his phone.

“That sounds like you really think I need one.” He laughs dryly.

Louis finally pockets his phone and looks at Harry in the eyes.

“Well I did find three empty bottles of vodka in the trash can, and a few bottles of _I don’t even know what they are_ in your fridge, next to a month old cheese and three _I’ll take a wild guess and say_ rotten eggs so.”

“Stop that. I am not a child, I _can_ take care of myself.” And the voices are slightly raised now.

“And look how that turned out.”

Harry shuts up.

He starts messing with a ring on his middle finger, and shrugs.

“I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have said that.” The statement has guilt written all over it.

But Harry just nods “You’re right.”

And ponders for a moment and asks: “What about the contract?”

“Do you want to sign it?”

And he thinks about it, does he really?

He needs to make music, and he likes performing, it’s the only thing he’s good at these days.

He doesn’t like his image now, and what media is painting him out to be like. Maybe the new management can fix that? Or maybe he should think some more? But if he doesn’t sign now, they’ll think he’s not interested and move on, like everybody else has. He’s just a fucked up popstar after all.

And. If he signs, he could actually see Louis more. That way, Louis _has_ to spend time with him, right? Maybe in the end, Louis can mend this whole mess. And after all, if Louis himself took the job of bringing him the contract, than that must mean that Louis must think that it’s for the best. And Harry still believes that Louis wouldn’t fuck him over.

 He wants that deal. It is his only choice now.

“Yeah, I think so, yeah” he narrows his eyebrows like he’s still thinking it over.

Louis swiftly gets up to make his way to the bookshelf and takes the contract and a pen out of his bag, he hands it over to Harry, and starts to say something but Harry beats him with “You don't have to convince me, I'll sign it. Besides, It is my only choice now.” he parrots and takes the pen and signs his name on all the lines below.

Louis sees him then, as an eighteen year young cherub, signing away his soul for the first time.

Thinking about the possibilities, about the travelling, performing, record deals, and signing, and not thinking for one second that he’s going to get fucked over. He sees it all and his heart breaks for the thousandth time that day.

Because Harry deserved, and still deserves better.

When Harry gives the contract back to him, Louis just puts it back in to his bag, zips it closed and lifts it up.

“We have a plane to catch.”

And Harry nods, and gets his stuff.

He follows Louis outside. He locks his door and follows Louis to a car his company rented for him.

The drive was silent between them and the radio.  

Harry spent it looking through the window and cursing the LA sun. Thinking about how he used to love it. Thinking how he used to be different. Stronger.

Thinking about how he lost himself, and how he lost Louis. How he’s putting his every last ounce of faith left in him, into Louis now. How after five years, he still believes in Louis and his judgment.

He follows Louis in to the airplane. Spends four hours sleeping and the other four pretending to be asleep, just so he could stay cuddled in Louis’ arms a bit longer. And Louis doesn’t let him go once, even though he must’ve been cramped. He doesn’t let him go once.

When they land, Harry follows Louis to his own car and they’re off to Doncaster, the town in which they grew up together. The town that he left five years ago thinking he would never come back.

He’d follow Louis to the end of the world, and when he sees the “Welcome!” sign, it seems like he already has.

 

 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

There are a lot of things Harry wishes to forget. And then there is Louis Tomlinson.

Louis was, is and always will be the only bright spot in Harry’s life he never wishes to forget.

He remembers the days he fell in love with Louis.

He remembers their first kiss, and he remembers their last one.

He remembers all of his sexual experiences with Louis. He remembers all of their firsts, how scared Louis was, how he himself was terrified.

He remembers the first time he asked Louis to go further, and he clearly remembers him saying ‘No’.

And Harry knew he _wasn’t_ _ready_ when he was eighteen and still with Louis. He remembers Louis saying the words he would never forget, and he still holds them close to his heart.

Because that was enough.

Their sexual experiences, even though they were limited, are sometimes, still worth remembering.

He remembers the first time he swiped his tongue around the crown of Louis’ cock, he remembers feeling on fire while riding Louis, both fully clothed, and he remembers the first time he wanted to try _something more_.

_The day after Harry turns seventeen he and Louis get into a fight. With his hormones raging and going wild, he asked Louis with tears in his eyes, if he was cheating, because he couldn’t believe anyone wouldn’t go crazy with having a boyfriend but not having sex with him at nineteen (they came to the conclusion Louis just wanks a lot)._

_Which lead to a more serious talk of how Louis would never do anything to hurt Harry, ever. How Harry is younger than him with almost zero experience (‘You’re not that experienced either, Lou’ and ’Semantics’), and how Louis claimed Harry was just not ready for sex. Harry admitted he was right, but he still wanted more._

_That night they had their first fight that ended up in a hot, shirtless, steamy kissing session that left both boys with obvious hard-ons._

_They were in Harry’s room, on his bed with Louis was lying a bit on top of him, with his leg between Harry’s thighs. Harry’s hands were both in Louis’ feathery hair, pulling, and Louis’ one hand was squeezing the younger boy’s hip and his other one was trapped between the pillow and his head._

_Harry wanted more, so he pulled Louis on top of him between his open legs._

_“I want you Lou,” and the older one started bucking his hips into him, grinding down and kissing his neck._

_“What do you want me to do?”_

_Harry took a deep breath, because Louis was starting to suck a mark on his favorite spot on his neck, not because he was scared to say what he wanted._

_“I want you to take my clothes off, spread my legs and play with my hole” if the room wasn’t so quiet and if it weren’t middle of the night Louis wouldn’t catch that. And he most definitely did not expect it. So he bit down hard on Harry’s neck who cried out in pleasure and Louis makes a mental note to talk about that sometime._

_“Haz, baby, you can’t just say shit like that..”_

_“Why not?” And Louis lifts his head and looks at his face. He searches it for any sign of uncertainty and maybe fear, but all he finds are blown out pupils, rosy cheeks and shallow breaths._

_“I don’t know, maybe we should talk about it when we’re not hard?” he makes a good point._

_“I want you to, do you not want to?”_

_And Louis wants to, wants to so much his cock is leaking inside of his joggers, but he needs Harry to be sure. Always make sure Harry is comfortable and completely positive that he wants to do something new._

_“Yeah, baby I do, but are you sure?”_

_And Harry looks up to him and pulls him in with his arms around his neck, kisses him on the mouth and whispers._

_“Yeah, I am, I just want you inside of me so much.”_

_And Louis is going to burst any moment now._

_“Have you ever touched yourself there?” it wasn’t supposed to come out that sexual, he just needed to know if Harry’s completely going in blind into something he might not even like._

_And Harry’s cheeks turn even more red which is quite amazing considering all of his blood is in his cock currently._

_“Yeah, a few times.”_

_And Louis imagines him on his bed with three fingers deep inside of himself, searching for his prostate, biting his bottom lip when he finds it and riding a pillow till he comes so hard his fingers hurt when he pulls them out of himself._

_“And?”_

_“And it felt so good I had to make myself come twice every single time.”_

_And instead of coming right then and there Louis kisses his mouth and whispers._

_“If it gets too much or you begin to feel uncomfortable, I need you to tell me alright.” And he’s serious and Harry nods because he knows that this whole thing is a big deal and that Louis needs his full consent._

_“Need you to tell me and I’ll stop, alright? You don’t even have to come, we’ll just try it out, okay?”_

_And he nods and unzips his jeans, and Louis helps him pull them off. He’s tenting his boxers and there’s a wet spot on them, and Louis’ mouth waters. Maybe next time._

_Harry takes them off and throws them somewhere on the floor but doesn’t spread his legs. Louis’s kneeling at his feet on the bed and touches with one hand the obviously scared boy’s knees._

_“Can I spread your legs, love?”_

_Harry nods and starts to relax. Only after almost a full minute passes does Louis put his hands on his knees and slowly spreads his legs apart. See, Harry was always confident in giving Louis blowjobs or handjobs, or that one time a finger in his bum (which Louis decided he didn’t like very much), but when it’s the other way around he was just too shy. Or scared to let himself go._

_He loves it when Louis is touching him, but there’s something that terrifies him about being spread out on display, for Louis to see. It’s just that exposure that scares him, and it makes him feel uneasy, like Louis is going to find his four nipples weird, or his baby fat unattractive, and maybe Louis wanted him to shave, but he didn’t…_

_That’s why Louis spreads his legs slowly, and looks Harry in his eyes and whispers “It’s alright, it’s just me, and you’re beautiful.”_

_And he resumes his position like last time between his legs, only this time Harry is completely naked beneath him._

_“Alright?”_

_“Yeah, yeah” Harry says, but his voice shakes a bit. So Louis kisses him to relax him, and it works._

_“There’s lube in the first drawer” the naked boy offers._

_“Yeah, okay” Louis gives him one more kiss before he stretches to get it, and when he does he puts it beside them on the sheets._

_“Still good?” he makes sure one more time._

_“Yeah, let’s get on with it” and he puts his hand on his cock, just lightly touching it, to calm himself down._

_Louis opens the bottle of lube and slicks his index finger. He’s watching Harry’s face as he slowly traces it from his thigh to his hole. Harry flinches on the first touch but quickly nods his head and says “I trust you, go on”, and Louis spreads some lube on his rim, and then slowly pushes his index finger inside to his first knuckle._

_Harry’s breathing is shallow and laud but he’s saying, “Go on, I can take it, I’m good”_

_And Louis is so fucking scared he’ll hurt him, so he waits a bit, before he carefully pulls his finger out and then slowly pushes it back in, and Harry’s cock is leaking on his stomach, not fully hard but getting there, again._

_He develops a steady rhythm and after a minute Harry starts moving his hips in time and moaning “Another, Lou, please”_

_And he looks so beautiful, riding his one finger, with his cock lying on his tummy and precome smeared across it. He looks like he needs another finger inside of him, so Louis obliges._

_He adds more lube, on both his middle finger and his ring finger, but pushes in only two. Harry’s hands are fisted in his hair and he’s whimpering now, small ‘Ahh’s and ‘Uhh’s leaving his red bitten lips and he’s screaming for the third finger to get inside of him, and Louis isn’t even sure he’s found his spot yet, but with Harry moaning so loud he must be doing something right._

_“Feels good baby?”_

_“Ahh, yeah, Lou, faster, fuck” and Louis gives it to him faster, and a bit harder so now Harry’s really moaning loud._

_“Want your cock Lou, want you to come” and he’s speaking more but it’s all incoherent moans._

_Louis can’t hear him properly because he got himself out of his joggers and is now pumping himself fast with his other hand. He spills all too quickly, all over his other hand and all over Harry’s ass, which must be a good thing because Harry cries out a moment later and thick white ropes paint his chest, and Louis’ fingers are squeezed so tightly he can’t feel them for a few seconds._

_When he pulls them out and wipes them on the now wet sheets, Harry flinches. He takes in his fluttering closed eyes and his chest that is rising and falling so fast, and he’s shaking a bit so he lies down next to him and pulls him in and Harry clutches at him like a koala._

_“Baby, you alright?” Should he be worried?_

_“Mhmm, sleepy..” Harry yawns._

_“Should I be worried?” he is worried._

_“Nahh Lou, ‘m fine, jus’ sleepy”, so Louis covers them both with a blanket and holds Harry in his arms and doesn’t even think about who’s going to be doing the laundry in the morning._

_After a few minutes passed, when Harry’s breathing returned to normal and Louis thinks he’s asleep he hears a faint: “I love you, Lou.”_

_And even half asleep he says it back._

_“I love you too Haz.”_

See, Harry remembers all of the experimenting he has done with Louis, and he remembers what he liked and what he didn’t.

He remembers how much he wanted Louis inside of him, to make love to him, fuck him soft and tender before hard, fast and rough.

He remembers it all, and those are the memories he still holds dear, but he seldom catches himself thinking about them thoroughly.

Because he also remembers his first time having penetrative sex, which wasn’t with Louis.

_Which wasn’t actually sex at all._

And just like every other sexual experience that wasn’t with Louis, he tries to forget it every single day.

 

 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

_“I’m gay”, thirteen year old Harry faces his mother and his sister one summer night with a fifteen year old Louis right beside him, holding his hand, squeezing for reassurance._

_Harry’s mum starts to cry and smiles at the same time. Happy tears._

_‘It’s ok, baby, it’s alright’ and she’s so proud of her son while his sister hugs him tight and says it’s alright too. Happy tears._

_It was all very emotional, there was a lot of hugging and crying and then hugging again, till the moment had to be over and the boys retreated to Harry’s bedroom._

_“I was so scared” Harry whispers, like normal voices would disturb the peace in his bed. Louis is the big spoon and he’s holding the smaller one’s hand whispering praises in to his ear._

_“I thought she would be mad, and I thought I was going to shit myself.” and they’re both laughing at that._

_“I love you, so much you know that right?”_

_“I love you too, Lou.”_

_“And I am so proud of you, so, so proud of you.” He emphases every ‘so’ with a soft kiss to Harry’s palm which he brings to his face._

_Harry turns around in his arms to face him and just… kisses him. For the first time ever, point blank, just reaches his neck an inch and closes his mouth around the older one’s lips. Louis kisses him back of course, but it lasts just a moment and then they settle back down with an inch between their faces._

_“Thank you Lou.”_

Lou?

_“For what?”_

_“For holding my hand. For supporting me.”He makes a pause. “For loving me.”_

Louis?

_“Always, Haz”, and he pecks his lips once again; he thinks he’ll never be able to stop doing it for more than a minute._

_“I’ll always be there for you, and I will always hold your hand through tough times, and I will always love you, alright? I promise.” He holds him tight as Harry softly whispers._

Please don’t.

_“I love you so much Lou. Sometimes, I just feel like you’re this sea that’s pulling me in and holds me tight, protects me and keeps me safe… and honestly, drowning doesn’t sound so bad if it’s you I get to drown into…”_

**_BAM!_ **

Louis wakes up from a really nice dream, a memory, to something… not so nice.

He jumps out of his bed and storms into the guest room, in which, only two hours ago, Harry was soundly sleeping the jet lag away.

But not anymore, because now he’s trashing around his bed calling, _no, screaming_ Louis’ name. He’s clawing on his skin, and his left arm has a cut on it which explains the broken frame, that used to be on the bedside table now on the floor, and the sound that woke him up.

“Haz, baby wake up,” he gets on the bed and catches Harry’s arms mid air so as not to hurt him or himself, and _that’s_ when Harry _really_ starts screaming.

He kicks his legs out, frees his arms and sends Louis flying to the floor. By now he’s screaming _and_ crying too.

But Louis quickly recovers and gets on the bed again and starts yelling as well.

“Haz, Harry, baby, I need you to fucking wake up! Come on, you’re going to hurt yourself, wake the fuck up!”

And Harry opens his beautiful, green eyes full of tears and for a one split moment there’s so much fear and terror in those eyes, up until he sets them on Louis properly.

And Harry simply gives up, sags into the bed and closes his eyes again, tries to catch his breath. Louis gets properly on the bed and maneuvers them so that he spoons Harry from behind and wraps his arms around him.

“I’m right here, you’re safe here, Haz” and Harry’s crying so quietly, he sniffles and tries to say something but chokes _every single time_.

“It’s alright, baby, try to go back to sleep, I’m right here, I’ll be right here.”

And when finally Harry succeeds, he tiredly chokes out an “I’m sorry.”

 “It’s alright, nothing to be sorry for, it’s alright, you’re safe here with me. You can go back to sleep, love…” and he rocks him and whispers sweet _everythings,_ till he hears his breathing even. He slowly removes himself from his side and goes to the bathroom to get the first aid kit and comes back with alcohol and a bandage and then cleans Harry’s cut and bandages it while he sleeps.

When he’s finished, he climbs into the bed again and resumes his position behind the now relaxed boy, and finally falls asleep again when it’s around four am.

***

Harry properly wakes up around noon, with Louis sleeping behind him, and an aching forearm.

Which. Oh. Again.

He can hear a noise from somewhere in the house, and soon realizes in his post sleeping state that it’s his phone ringing from somewhere in the living room and he thinks that it’s probably Sally wanting to officially inform him that his contract is over.

And he’s right, Sally says he’s free and wishes him luck before she hangs up.

They were never really friends, but, rude.

With Louis sleeping, there isn’t much he can do. Not that there would be if he were awake but still.

There’s a lot of places he wants to revisit in Doncaster, there are people he would like to see again. But. He’s _famous_ now, whatever that means really. And he just can’t will himself to go out and risk being recognized, not now when he’s supposed to be getting his shit together.

And literally the moment he sits on the couch in Louis’ living room, he sets his eyes on a few bottles neatly put on a shelf next to the tv.

Well. What better way to celebrate his freedom than to get drunk.

***

The thing that wakes Louis up the second time that day is music.

And it’s as beautiful as the sun that is setting outside.

He can hear Harry playing his stepfather’s (?) dust-collecting guitar from downstairs. Who knew it could be even tuned anymore; that old thing was as old as Louis himself.

He goes down the stairs, just in his joggers and bare feet, to see Harry sitting cross-legged in the middle of the living room floor with the old guitar in his hands.

And a bottle of scotch next to him.

 _‘I know I've dreamed you’_ and Louis knows this song.

 _’A sin and a lie’_ and Harry’s voice sounds as warm as honey. He was born to sing this song, and Louis was born to listen.

It’s truly a magical moment for Louis.

The colors of the setting sun don’t concern him, the open window and the wind softly blowing either. It’s not about the light illuminating _his_ face, and it’s not about the smell of the upcoming rain..  

It’s a magical moment for Louis to simply watch the love of his life as he gets found in something he loves most.

 _Gets found_ because he’s lost every other second.

Music makes him find himself again.

Grounds him.

Keeps him safe.

Also that sounds a lot like Louis himself, but. Semantics.

  _‘I have my freedom but I don't have much…’_ and he suddenly stops playing. His right hand covers the strings and Louis realizes he’s looking right at him.

“Did you drink it all on your own?” He gestures to the bottle beside him.

“No, I had a neighbor over.” and then he just continues playing the song, but he doesn’t sing.

“Are you drunk?” he inquires as he steps forward and sits in front of him on the floor.

“A little, yeah” he admits.

He doesn’t seem drunk.

And when Louis properly looks at the bottle, he sees it’s like, three gulps shy of being completely full, so.

“Have you just now started drinking?”

“No, that was three years ago.” Harry continues playing.

And it hits him what that really means as the curly haired _still just a boy_ continues playing on.

They sit in silence for almost an hour, and around every ten minutes Harry takes a gulp of scotch, and offers it to Louis, who takes him up on it.

There is just music for a while after until Louis recognizes the song Harry’s playing and starts to sing.

_‘Well a person can work up a mean, mean thirst, after a hard day of nothin' much at all’_

And Harry smiles, after so long Louis actually sees Harry smile _a real smile_ as he starts to sing along because.

They used to dance to that song.

They used to kiss to that song.

They used to breathe that song.

And In that moment, Harry felt it again. The feeling he used to get every single day _before_ …

You see, nobody could ever tell who fell in love with whom first, it was a simultaneous reaction, a reflex Harry thought he lost.

 It happened in the blink of an eye, in a chord that Harry played, in a beat of Louis’ heart, in the last verse that neither of them wanted to sing.

It just happened, and Louis saw the recognition dawn upon Harry’s face.

With a genuine smile, Harry recognized the feeling the world tried to beat out of him.

He fell in love all over again with the same blue eyed _now a man_ he never tried or wanted to forget.

With the song over and the bottle half empty, or half full, who knows, Harry carefully puts down the guitar next to him and lies down on the floor.

“I think I’m ready.”

And those are the words that once upon a time, Louis couldn’t wait to hear come out of Harry’s mouth.

But he knows the context is not the same so he waits for the elaboration.

“I want to tell you what really happened to me.”

Right on cue.

And Louis takes another swig from the bottle, because the drinking, shutting off, the nightmares, and the things he says in his sleep, they all make sense. Everything points to the one thing Louis didn’t want to even entertain the idea of believing.

 He prepares for his heart to break again, prepares for his world to shatter, and prepares to make a certain phone call and finally get Harry in to therapy.

He prepares to be strong, for Harry. Because that’s all that he can do at that moment. Be strong.

“Four years ago, I was raped?”

And he says it so softly, quietly, like he questions what really happened, and he makes a pause because if he were to raise his voice, or say anything else immediately after, he’s sure he would break down.

But he knows he can’t do that now. Now is not the time for that.

Now is the time to be strong.

Now is time for the truth to get spilled.

And the truth is the only thing he has control over in that moment, because he needs to get better. He needs Louis to help him, and get him professional help, because apparently in the last four years all that Harry has done is bury himself deeper into a hole of self-destruction, and he knows it.

He wants to get better.

“Umm, self destruction is everything I’ve known since… I…” and he makes another pause, his eyes are locked on the ceiling. He’s doing it. He’s saying it out loud.

“It was never alright, not even for a while after I left home. I loved performing, but they wrote all of my songs for the first album, which was shit, and I knew that. I had shit producers and mediocre writers, and I just wanted to produce my own stuff, you know. And they’d never let me do that.  I only have like two or three songs I’ve written alone on each album.“ he’s just stating facts, voice flat.

Louis takes another swig.

“There was this producer, umm… he, he met with me a couple of times to go over some stuff I’ve been working on by myself, and he kept saying I was good and how I’ll definitely make it in the industry on my own, and he acted like he wanted to help me release my own music on the sly, but he kept hitting on me, which was flattering at first, but I never wanted, I …” and he’s voice shakes for a second.

Out of the corner of his eye, because Louis can’t look at him because no one needs him crying now, he sees a single tear slip down his boy’s cheek.

“Anyways, when the first tour was wrapped, I went to this party my management threw, and he was there, and I guess I got really, really drunk? And it was in this big house, I didn’t even know who owned it. Umm, I went to a bedroom to sleep it off, I couldn’t even think straight, let alone walk..” he sniffles.

“I just wanted to sleep it off so I got on the bed and the next thing I know he was on top of me.” He states.

“And I kept trying to push him off, and I told him to _please stop touching me_ , but he didn’t care, the music was too loud from downstairs, no one could hear me, so he kissed me and he left… he left marks that wouldn’t fade for _weeks_ ” he’s whispering, there’s a lump in his throat but he’s still talking.

He’s talking nonetheless.

“He got me face down, I was so drunk I couldn’t even move properly, that made me think that I drank something that was spiked, and I just couldn’t move and I just wanted him _off of me._ The next thing that hit me was the cold air on my lower body.” Louis wipes his eyes, the tears do not stop falling for a long time.

“He had lube, he had a condom, it didn’t even hurt,” and he chokes that part out, “He just slammed in to me until he came, and then he fucking finished me off with his hand… I felt so dirty and guilty afterwards, I didn’t want it, It just happened, It didn’t _feel good,_ I felt disgusting and I was _so_ _ashamed_ , and I kept screaming and crying but I couldn’t move, and he just left me there, he just fucking left me there…” It’s the fastest he’s ever talked. He takes a big gulp of air as he calmed himself down.

In three seconds he wipes his eyes and continues.

“After a while, when I could finally move I just dressed myself and got out of the room, passed all the people who could’ve helped me but _didn’t_ , and I didn’t know who gave me that drink, I didn’t know who planned it or who was in on it, and I felt _so sick_ to my stomach, and just puked all over the floor in the middle of the room, all over myself. I heard someone say _‘the styles kid can’t hold his liquor’_ and people laughed and I was so humiliated, and just like that I left the house, started walking home, I just wanted to go home…” he takes a deep breath and his voice is still shaking but he continues.

“The paps were everywhere and they caught shots of me puking every ten meters, and falling and crying…”

Louis’s heard enough, but the sad thing is that he knows that there’s more.

“Niall, my guitarist somehow found me and he put me in his car and drove me home, I refused to tell him what really happened, I just wanted to take a shower before I killed myself.”

And he says that like it’s an item on his grocery list. Voice flat, indifferent.

“I couldn’t do it, so I just took that shower, scrubbed myself till I bled and then passed out. Rinse and repeat for the next two years, which were the worst.” Louis wipes his eyes.

“I used to let people fuck me, girls and guys both, sometimes at the same time… I was always too drunk to think, I just didn’t even care anymore if I were to die and I drank a lot,  used to really drink a lot... And I got offered cocaine a few times but I _never_ took it, but of course, the word got out that I was fucked up so they pinned that on me too. And all I wanted was to just feel something nice again, just a simple gentle touch. I just wanted to be okay again…”

He makes a pause, and looks at Louis who still has silent tears rolling down his face. He turns his head back to the ceiling and talks more calmly now. 

“My mum moved to London a little after I left Doncaster, you know that right? Yeah so, we didn’t see each other much till much later… uhm, she finally came on her own to see me in LA two years after the… and she got me to sell my big new posh house and buy the small flat you saw, and she made me delete all the contacts, made me cut ties with all the people who claimed to be my friends, but weren’t. She drilled into my head that I can’t go on like that and that I should do my job, and avoid the people, avoid parties, avoid temptations until my contract expired so that I can just get the fuck out.. She stayed with me for a few months, till I stood on my own two shaky feet. She got me on the right track I guess.” He smiles.

“So that’s what I did. For this past year all I’ve been doing is play my shows, go home and usually drink myself to sleep and I, I only wanted the contract to end so that I could leave it all behind, just leave it all behind and… “

“I _refuse_ to believe I’m broken you know? And I really hate to ask, but I think I need some serious help Lou…” He whispers.

“I’ve been living this nightmare for too damn long.” He finishes with a tired sigh.

His eyes are dry, he’s still lying on the floor in the same position he was in when he first started talking.

And he told the truth.

And the contract is over.

And he’s everything but _free_.

Louis gets up from his spot on the floor, takes Harry’s hand and helps him up so that they can sit on the more comfortable couch. He wraps his arms around the exhausted boy, wraps him in his arms, just like all the times before… Harry lifts his legs and puts them over Louis’ thighs, hides his face in his neck and just _breathes_. For the first time in so long, he just _breathes._

Louis wraps him in his arms and just holds him close.

He is _so proud_ of Harry.

“It’s alright Haz, it’s time to wake up now.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

The first thing Louis needs to do after he wakes up the next morning, (on the couch with arms full of sleeping Harry Styles) is to make that certain call. But he picks up Harry from the couch first, and carries him to his bedroom. He places him gently on the bed and covers him with a warm blanket.

And Harry just hugs the blanket closer and closes in on himself. Still sleeping like that, he looks peaceful.

Louis leaves him and goes to the living room, locates his phone, and dials the number.

She picks up on the second ring.

“Hey mum.”

“Louis,” she yawns, ”Is everything alright?”

She’s worried from the moment she picks up the phone. Normal.

“Yeah, yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” And Louis is a bit offended.

“It’s seven am honey, and it’s Sunday; why are you awake so early?” She yawns again into the phone.

And Louis thinks about how to tell her, how to start the conversation.

That he needs a favor.

”Umm, Harry’s with me…”

She’s fully awake now.

 “We’re staying at my house in Doncaster, um I wanted to visit, but I couldn’t, I…” he mumbles.

“I need a favor, mum… Things got really bad for Harry, and he’ll be staying here with me from now on..”

“Is he alright? Are you?” she’s worried for them both now.

“Honestly? No. That’s the reason I’m calling you about.. I, um, need you to recommend me a therapist. Here. In Doncaster.”

“What kind of a therapist, love?”

“Umm, someone who has a lot of experience with, um, people who have gone through sexual abuse.. or assault. Rape, mum..”

“Oh my God.” She gasps.

“You _can’t_ tell anyone that you know, mum, I just need a name and an address and I need him to be able to start going as soon as possible.. Like I said, things got _really_ bad.” he rushes out.

“Yeah, Lou, just one second, let me find the address.” he can hear her shuffling on the other side and a minute later rattle off the address and a name of one of her friends that used to work at the same hospital as her. She says she’s a private therapist, and quite professional.

Perfect.

“Thanks, mum.”

“And Lou?”

“Yeah?”

“Come home soon, the girls miss you. Both of you.”

“Yeah, we’ll try, but not for a while..” and he hangs up with sadness in his voice and a tear in his heart without saying anything more, because _he misses them too_.

He intends to check up on Harry, but he finds him sitting at the bottom of the stairs. He’s in Louis’ clean joggers that can’t reach his ankles, and a shirt he doesn’t recognize.

“How long have you been sitting there?”

 “Long enough.”

Which means he heard the conversation.

Which means he knows his mum knows.

And that he’s going to get professional help sooner than he maybe thought he would. Whether he wants it or not _that soon,_ because they haven’t really discussed if he’s completely ready yet. Louis considers that a given.

“Are you mad?”

And Harry looks straight at him, doesn’t say anything for a good few seconds until his lips curve into a tiny smile.

“Not really, no. Thank you.”

And Louis nods his head.

He knows that that’s the first sign of a tiny step to a long process of healing, a tiny step closer to recovery.

And he knows that Harry will never be the same again, that he will carry scars that will never fade. Scars that will itch so bad sometimes he’ll scratch himself till he bleeds, and still _never_ take the itch away.

And he also knows that he’ll be there for him every step of the way.

That Harry is the strongest person he knows.

He just has to pull through.

Later in the evening, they decide on ordering pizza because they’re famished but not in the mood to go out; or buy groceries.

Which they should at some point.

Harry eats three slices and feels weird when it all stays in his stomach.

Louis is proud.

Louis holds his hand while they sit on the couch as Harry himself calls the therapist to make the appointment, with first one being scheduled for the very next morning.

And that was a big step and they are both proud and tearful when they retire to sleep.

In the master bedroom, in the same bed, with Louis spooning Harry from behind and holding him close, whispering to him how proud he is until they both fall asleep.

***

Harry sleeps through the night and in the morning Louis drives him to his first session.

He waits outside, in his car.

He receives a call from James and reports _‘I’m still working on it’,_ then calls Zayn and tells him that Harry’s back.

Zayn never met Harry, because Harry left the year before Louis went to uni, where he met Zayn. But he knew the bottom line.

Boy got his dream job and left his dream boyfriend behind. Now, Zayn is usually a thoughtful, compassionate, understanding person… Usually.

“So what? He’s back and he’s staying at your house and you just _took him back_ , just like that?”

“Z, it’s complicated..” Louis tried to reason with him.

“Complicated my ass, he broke your heart Lou. He left you …”

“He needs me right now Z, needs my help, and we do still care for each other..”

“How? You haven’t seen each other in five years Lou, you must be completely different people, how can you be sure you both still care for each other that much? Besides, he probably fucked half of America by now and you still want him in _your bed?_ ”

“Zayn, I will say this once, _do not_ talk about him that way.” Louis can take shit and he probably will, but never when it comes to Harry.

“Yeah, sorry.” Zayn mumbles, and the line goes silent for a while.

And something is wrong, Louis can feel it. That is not Zayn he’s talking to.

That’s Zayn and Liam in a fight he’s talking to.

“What happened with Liam?”

“He’s taking a job in Tokyo.”

And.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

There’s a pause at both sides, till Louis asks the obvious.

“Why don’t you go with him? You can be a tortured artist anywhere.”

“Because what if it doesn’t work out? He already asked me to go with him, but if we don’t work out I’d be left with no home, no money in a country I don’t speak the fucking language in.”

“He already asked you to go with him? What did you tell him?”

“I said I’ll think about it and I haven’t gotten out of his bedroom since.”

“How long has it been?”

“Three hours, I can hear him watching Doctor Who reruns in the living room.”

“And he’s just waiting for you to come out?” Ha, pun intended.

“Yeah.”

“Go with him, you love him, so just go with him.”

Zayn is silent for a minute. He’s obviously thinking about it and weighing the possibilities.

“I’ll think about it. I have to go talk to Liam now, this is the third time I’m hearing ‘I don’t want to go’, and he’s probably crying so. Sorry about the outburst and say hi to the popstar for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, good luck, bye.” And Louis hangs up and just thinks too.

For five years, no contact whatsoever and they fall into their routine like no time has passed at all. They are either really soul-mates or they’re just going to crash and burn and end up even worse than before.

And what if they really are different people? Well, they definitely are, but what if they’re too different? What if they find out that they are not right for each other anymore? What if they never were? What if they are both just fucked up co-dependent idiots who just can’t let go of the past?

But a few minutes later Harry slides next to him in the car and he’s wearing that tiny smile that says _‘another small victory’_ and kisses Louis on the cheek.

Pecks him really, just close enough to his mouth for it to scream _‘love’._

And Louis smiles back and starts the car.

They’ll be ok.

Even if all they have is love for each other, they’ll make sure it’s enough.

Somehow that has always been enough for them.

 

 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

They develop a routine.

Louis cashed in a few favors and he takes time off work to be able to dedicate his time to Harry.

Harry goes every Monday and Friday to his therapist and he seems a bit better. He stops drinking and he starts talking more.

Sometimes he would tell Louis about his shows, about the kind fans he’s met, about all the songs he’s written but never got the chance to play live.

And sometimes he talks about different men touching him while he’s almost passed out. Using him, getting him wasted, calling him names while all they want is a one night stand with a fucked up popstar.

That’s all they ever got though.

He talks about Niall, his guitarist. A loud Irish man with a great sense of humor and an enormous heart.  Niall was always protecting him any way he could. He used to go to the same parties and be ready to take Harry home when he’s finally had enough.  He was a great friend, but they stopped seeing each other when Harry stopped seeing anyone. They talk on the phone regularly though, they still care. 

He talks about how he went to London a couple of times to see, and try to talk to Louis. How he always got scared before he actually did and left. How one time he saw him with a dark haired model looking boy and thought they were together, which in a weird way made him happy. Glad that Louis has moved on.

He talks about how much he’s missed him. How he would do everything to just go back in time and never leave.

Sometimes, just before they fall asleep, he whispers he loves him, and Louis pretends he’s asleep because Harry is not ready for all of that drama yet.

He needs to get better first. Their relationship can wait.

They spend their days talking, watching tv, ordering in. Harry goes to his appointments and Louis works on his lap top, completing all of the assignments he’s left unfinished.

James calls Louis every week and asks him if he has the contract signed and _how the hell do you mean not yet_? And Louis makes an excuse after an excuse and says he’s working on it.

A month passes and everything’s alright.

Till it isn’t.

***

It’s 2am and Louis wakes up sweaty while he’s spooning Harry from behind and he’s terrified.

It’s 2am and Louis wakes up _hard_ and sweaty while he’s spooning Harry from behind.

And he’s _terrified_.

Harry’s t-shirt is ridden up while he’s is pushing back on him, with his boxers covered ass right on Louis’ dick. He’s letting out shallow breaths and he moans _‘Lou’_ while he’s squeezing Louis’ hand that is thrown over his chest _._

See, Louis is terrified because they haven’t done anything like that since they were seventeen and nineteen. And Louis hasn’t done anything with anyone since second year of uni when he was pissed drunk and had a lovely one night stand _with a girl_.

But he’s terrified because he doesn’t know what to do with twenty three year old Harry that went through sexual abuse and a lot more shit no one should ever go through.

 _‘Lou’_ he moans again, and pushes back harder, and Louis is not even sure if he’s awake.

And they are not ready for this. This has _‘disaster’_ written all over it, and _they are just not ready._

“Lou, I know you’re awake”, comes Harry’s moaning again. Which. Yeah.

Louis tightens his hold around him to stop him and groans.

“Haz, baby, we can’t do this.”

And Harry continues grinding back on him and pleads.

“Please, Lou, please, I need it.” And he pushes back hard just to prove his point.

And Louis doesn’t know what to do, it’s not like he knows what’s going through Harry’s brain, he doesn’t know if it’s healthy for him to engage in something like this, this soon after he’s just started therapy and just started to open up about his bad experiences and worse.

Louis needs to voice his concerns but he doesn’t get the chance because Harry swiftly turns over in his arms and kisses him. The breath he’s been holding is taken away and kissing Harry after so long feels _so good_. He kisses back because that’s his Harry kissing him, with his tongue tasting him and there _are_ fireworks and there’s a leg pushed between his and Harry’s riding his thigh like there’s no tomorrow.

 _“Please”_ Harry breathes into his mouth.

“What do you need, love?” and Harry stops kissing him and pushes his head into Louis’ shoulder and continues grinding and whispering _‘I just need, please Lou, I need’._

“What do you need?” Louis pushes his hand into his curly hair and pulls a bit which Harry obviously appreciates because he chokes out a moan and pushes his hand between his own legs. He lowers his boxers just a bit more so that the head of his his stiff cock can peek out and start leaking onto his tummy.  

“What do you need, baby?”

Louis repeats himself and considers just leaving him like this to get off on his thigh because he doesn’t even know if he’s allowed to touch him properly.

“Need you to make me yours again, please”

So Louis pushes him on his back while Harry automatically spreads his legs so that Louis can fit better between them and lifts his hands up to his neck and kisses him again. There’s no pressure on Harry’s cock anymore and Louis’ sure he’s about to burst soon, so he leaves one hand in Harry’s hair while he slowly starts moving the other towards Harry’s lower body.

“It’s okay, it’s okay” and that would be Harry nodding his head while looking into Louis’ eyes because _‘I’m ok, you can touch me’_.

When his hand closes around Harry’s almost clothed cock, Harry’s back arches off the bed and he starts bucking into it again. Small, moans and whimpers are leaving his kiss bitten lips.

He starts pulling up Louis’ t-shirt and with his other hand, boxers down and says “Take it off, all of it, need you”

And Louis lets him. He takes off his clothes and the moment his boxers are gone, Harry’s hand is on him.

And it feels so good, to have a warm, steady hand he loves wrapped around him, pulling, and the other buried in his hair while his own is touching Harry, again, after so long, just touching each other is enough to bring him over the edge…

“Where’s lube?” but Harry has other plans.

And Louis slows his hand down, and looks at him properly.

Blown out pupils, red swollen lips, thin sheen of sweat on his hairline, hair a tangled mess on the pillow, legs spread, head of his cock smearing precome on his lower tummy.

He looks beautiful, and he looks like he’s seventeen again, asking Louis to make love to him, and Louis remembers why he didn’t, and he won’t.

Again, for the same reasons.

“I can’t love, not yet.”

“Louis I’m gonna cum just like this if you don’t get your fingers in me _right now_ ” he laughs, before he realizes Louis doesn’t mean like _‘not yet love, gotta get you worked up some more’_ but actually _‘you’re not ready yet, we’re not ready yet’_ so he begs.

“Please, I need it, I need you” and he pushes both of his hands in Louis’ hair now and pulls him in a bruising kiss, his eyes start tearing up.

_“Please, please, I just need to feel good, and you make me feel good, I haven’t in so long, please”_

And Louis’ heart breaks, because Harry trusts him to make him feel good, to touch him and for him not to feel guilty afterwards. He trusts him enough to spread himself in his naked glory and let himself be _loved_ not used.

“Come on baby, I know you can come just from this”

And Harry chokes out a moan and continues his bruising way across Louis’ lips, jaw then neck while Louis works his cock, now fully out of his boxers, and skin on skin never felt so good.

“That’s it, baby, you can let go”

And Harry’s hands tighten in Louis’ hair as his _‘Ahhh’s_ get louder.

And Louis can feel it’s wet where Harry’s head is buried where his neck meets his shoulder. And he can hear that Harry’s moans are mixed with his cries. And he can feel the exact moment Harry starts coming, because he screams this broken moan laced with tears that he’s now properly spilling.

Harry rides it out and stops shaking in a bit, and lets Louis’ neck go as he wipes his eyes and gets his legs freed from Louis’ body between them. He lets Louis lie still on top of him like that and pushes his own boxers to his knees, opting to leave his t-shirt on, before he slides his hand between them to catch Louis’ still achingly hard erection in it, but Louis closes his own cum covered one around them both.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to” and Harry lets go of his cock, and laces his hand with Louis’ come covered one, pushes them both down  his thighs and just starts smearing his come and Louis’ precome between them. Harry turns around on his side and gets Louis to spoon him, just like they woke up like and reaches behind himself to get Louis’ cock between his thighs.

“Haz, I said it’s alright”

“And I say you can fuck my thighs”

And Louis lets out a deep breath and squeezes Harry’s hip hard beneath his t-shirt, and Harry wipes his hand on the sheets first and then catches Louis’ hand on his hip and squeezes it.

“Come on” and he catches Louis cock with his thighs and he crosses his ankles and squeezes hard.

Louis moans and he feels Harry pushing on to him, just like before and his dick slides in between Harry’s cheeks for real every time he pushes back. He starts kissing Harry’s neck and Harry starts moaning again, while Louis gets a moan choked out of him every time his cock hits the cold air from between Harry’s thighs.

“Again Lou, touch me again”

And Louis removes his hand from the hip he’s had a steal hard grip on and closes it around Harry’s already filling cock. And he moans loud after that, from over sensitivity, from feeling Louis between his legs, from the fact that Louis is pushing himself forward so hard now that he’s sure he’ll have bruises on his lower back, thighs and hip.

“Come on baby, want you to come first again” and Harry whines because he doesn’t know if he can do it that soon. And Louis knows that, he knows him, so he continues talking.

“Come on, you got what you wanted, you have me leaking between the thighs I used to bruise, do you remember that?” And Harry’s pushing back now into him and pushing hard forwards into Louis hand.

“Or when I had you on your knees and fucked your mouth so hard you ended up with a raspy voice and come all over your pretty face, or when you used to swallow every last drop, do you remember that?”

“Come on baby, I used to jerk off to the thought of this happening, did you touch yourself too?”

And at that Harry cries out and just comes all over Louis' hand and he rides it out for the second time that night.

"Lou, come on, you can come too." he whispers.

And Louis continues pushing between his legs, feels his body going rigid and he's fucking his thighs with less finesse now before he spills between them and clutches Harry's hip one last time.

Harry turns over and looks at the boy he loves, kisses him properly. It's slow, sweaty, and it tastes like _home._

They’re smiling after that, lying on their sides just looking at each other.

“I’m really proud of you Haz” and as the response he gets is an “I love you”.

Louis eventually gets up and gets a warm washcloth to clean themselves up, and then dresses himself and Harry too in clean underwear.

They end up spooning and drifting off to sleep a bit after they realize that the sun is already rising in the sky, and the last thing Harry hears before his conscious mind finally drifts off  is an "I love you too".

 

 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

_This is it, they both know it. Hearts are going to get broken and everything will royally go to shit._

_“When were you going to tell me?” Louis storms into Harry’s bedroom while Harry is lying in his bed, on his back looking at the ceiling._

_“That I’m leaving tomorrow morning?” he turns his head to look at Louis who is out of breath, still standing at his door._

_“Your mum told me…” He starts meddling with his jean pocket, not sure what to do with his hands because he’s angry and he’s hurt and this is not the way it was supposed to be like._

_Harry turns his head back to the ceiling and shakily says: “You never wanted to talk about it, might as well leave out the date of my departure.”_

_“Are you fucking hearing yourself right now!?” Louis screams at him but doesn’t step closer to the bed, Harry stands up instead and yells._

_“How do you think I feel?” Harry’s voice is starting to shake; he’s definitely going to start crying soon but first there’s a point to be made._

_“This is my chance Louis! You never wanted to talk about it, you weren’t excited when I got the call, you weren’t excited when I chose my songs, you weren’t even with me when I went to the studio for the first time! You didn’t want to be a part of this at all!”_

_“Because I didn’t want you to leave, you self centered curly haired cunt!”_

_“You just don’t want me to leave **you** , you selfish high pitched asshole!” Harry corrects him. _

_Louis steps closer to him, gets into his face and his voice is still shaking and a lot more raised than it should be._

_“Why is that a bad thing? Ha?” He takes Harry’s hands into his own, “Tell me, why is that a bad thing?” And Harry’s crying and turning his head away but Louis keeps searching his face, squeezing and pulling his hands. “I know this is your damn chance and I know that I’m being selfish,” he gets Harry to look at him, watering blue eyes piercing into the crying green ones, “But I love you so much and I just want you to stay. Why is that a bad thing?”_

_And Harry kisses him, deeply, with everything he’s got because that’s the only thing right in that moment. Normally they don’t do fighting; they have clean, honest conversations and they make up._

_But now is not normal for them, and it’s heartbreaking because Harry keeps mumbling a constant string of “I’m sorry”s while Louis starts walking him backwards to the bed saying ‘I don’t care’ with tears freely spilling._

_They fall in a mess of tangling limbs, one last time._

_They tear their clothes off and it’s not like any other time before. Louis pulls Harry’s hair a lot harder than they’re used to, he leaves love bites all across his neck and collarbones, marking him out of pure desperation and Harry’s touching him everywhere, dragging his hands across his body, mapping him out, trying to carve it all into his memory. Every curve, piece of flesh, scar, moan, touch._

_Because he never wants to forget._

_Because he’s leaving tomorrow, and if he ever comes back, he’s not sure if he’ll have anything to come back to. Anyone. He’s not sure if he’ll still have Louis waiting for him to come back home._

_So they bite and scratch and bruise each other, literally steal the breath away from each other’s mouths._

_And the worst thing is that even then, when Louis knows it’s over for them, when Harry is leaving to pursue a career he is meant to, when this is their last night together, when the time’s running out with no way of stopping the inevitable, even then, he stops when Harry whispers “Make love to me.”_

_His green eyed boy is eighteen, experienced in more ways than one, smart and sure of himself, in any other situation but this one. Louis would, scratch that, will, never do anything, ever, to hurt him._

_Because right now Harry’s terrified, and his eyes are still full of unspilled tears, and his quick, shallow breathing is not the same kind as when they’re fooling around, it’s the nervous kind he tries to hide when he wants to do something he doesn’t actually want to do._

_And they both know that he’s not only leaving Louis, but his family too, his childhood, the familiarity of walking the streets in his hometown where he’s safe. That there’s more to diving head first into the music industry than putting out records and performing._

_And Harry loves Louis. He loves him now and he always will._

_Harry fell in love with Louis the day he moved into the empty house next to the Tomlinson household, with his family and their broken home. When Louis introduced himself and said he liked his long hair and ‘no, it doesn’t look silly, I think it’s pretty’._

_When Louis went with him for his first day of school when he had his own classes to attend to but chose to ignore. When he got a slur thrown his way for the first time and asked “What does a fag mean?” and saw that utterly broken look inside his deep blue sea because there are some things he couldn't be protected from._

_He fell in love with Louis the day Tomlinsons got divorced and when he made him awful cupcakes just to cheer him up. When he realized he was gay, when he came out, when he kissed him for the first time. When he showed him his first written song, when he sang it, when he played it._

_And every other day in between. All over again, always with more intensity than before._

_He fell in love with Louis once more when Louis had him spread out between his legs, asking him to make love to him for the first time, for the last time._

_And he fell in love when Louis said “You’re not ready Haz, you don’t owe me anything.” kissed him and concluded with:_

_”You gave me your heart, and that’s enough. That will always be enough for me”_

_And Harry wondered if the love they share is enough for the fate to let them find each other again. Because in that moment he didn’t want to leave. He never wanted to leave **home**._

_They just held each other that night._

_Louis held his home as close and as tight as he could as Harry apologized and justified actions Louis won’t understand for a long time._

_They fell asleep like that, together, in love, torn apart but still clutching and holding onto **them** because when Harry once wrote “don’t let me go” it became a promise they both once intended to keep.  _

_But when Louis woke up, he woke up alone._

 

 

There were signs painted all over that morning.

Signs which Louis chose to ignore.

He woke up to an empty bed and a cold spot next to him which is usually still quite warm, because Louis usually wakes up the same minute Harry gets up. Usually.

When Louis goes down the stairs to look for him, he checks every room before he looks through the window and sees that Harry’s on the porch smoking.

It’s bright outside, the Sun has just began to rise. Louis has a _feeling_.

Harry can’t sleep sometimes and usually Louis just leaves him to his alone time which Harry and himself both claim he needs. And even though he can’t even begin to try and understand what Harry is actually fighting against at that very moment, it pains him to see that sad, lost look on Harry’s face, but just like usual, he leaves him to himself and goes back to bed to sleep for another two hours.

The feeling doesn’t stop when the alarm for Harry’s appointment rings. He gets out of the bed, straight to the bathroom, dresses up, looks for his car keys, _on Harry probably_ , puts on his shoes and he’s ready to go when he climbs down the stairs.…

He _did_ have a weird feeling this morning.

He should’ve listened to it.

Because now, Harry is sitting on the couch, fully clothed with his boots on.

His legs are firmly on the ground with his back straight against the couch; he’s still smoking.

Now that wouldn’t seem weird any other time, but now the weird feeling Louis had only grows stronger, and there’s a certain tension in the air. Harry definitely heard him coming down the stairs but he chooses not to turn around which is the first clue that something is wrong.

“Haz?” Louis walks around the couch to sit beside him. He almost puts his hand on Harry’s thigh but Harry flinches away.

 “I used to dream about you saying you will fight for us..” He starts out slowly. Drags his words out.

”Flying out to London, finding me after a concert, asking me to come back home. I used to have dreams where you asked me to come back, and I did. Those were the happy ones.” Half of a smile is dancing on his lips.

“The sad ones are actually the same constant nightmare where I kiss your sleeping face goodbye and I lose everything.“ He whispers slowly, he scrunches his nose as he looks at his cigarette burning out between his index finger and the middle one.

“I wake up and I’m living that nightmare.” He takes a drag and exhales.

“I’m supposed to start working tomorrow.” He finally states as he puts his cigarette out in an ashtray.

“What?” and Louis is confused, his plan _is_ _foolproof_.

“Evelyn James herself called me last night to inform me that tomorrow I’ll start working again. They had set up a meeting to meet me in an hour at the ‘Dox’, can you believe that? They have the album, promo already planed, a tour in six months... when the fuck were you going to tell me?” his voice rises in a matter of seconds.

And Louis _is confused._ His plan _is_ fireproof, he had more time, _what the fuck happened_.

“Haz..” He starts but Harry cuts him off,

“You were supposed to help me not throw me back to the wolves!”

He stands up and walks to the hallway to get his jacket from the hanger and Louis follows.

“You are not going back there Haz, there’s no..” he tries to say but Harry actually yells in his face.

“Fuck you! I thought I was free! They all _used to_ fucking _own_ me Lou, and now they own me _again_ , and you can’t fix this because it’s your fucking fault so fuck you!” He goes for the door but Louis slams it in front of him and keeps his hand firmly on it.

“Harry will you fucking let me speak?” he grits his teeth because he can’t fix this because there’s nothing there to fix. If only he would let…

“Let me go Lou, I have to get to that meeting. Please.” And it’s softly spoken, like he’s actually giving up.

“Just let me go.” He repeats.

And Louis does.

Harry storms out leaving Louis just for a moment alone, before he too storms out and as he sees Harry getting out of the driveway, in _Louis’_ car, Louis heads the other way.

He runs, and he runs, for two blocks straight.

Fuck the sweat clinging to his skin and the panting to the point of almost choking; he runs straight into his childhood home without knocking, because there is always someone in the house, never has been the need to lock the door _and thank god for that_.

 “I need your car keys!” He says as soon as he’s in the kitchen, looking at his mom’s back who’s cooking dinner in front of the stove.

“Holy canolli, Louis…” she’s startled when she turns around with her hand on her rapidly beating heart.

“Now mum, I need your car keys, please!” he looks desperate and she has no idea what is happening, but her only son just stormed into her house after months of not seeing each other and how much of a bad idea it is, she doesn’t even want to think about when she says:

“They’re in the glove compartment, be safe!”

As he runs to her to peck her cheek he yells out a “Thank you” and storms out to the back yard to the car. He fishes out the car keys and heads to the ‘Dox’, which is a hipster restaurant, a hole in the wall really, which is half an hour away. They used to go on dates there.. Harry liked it…

But Louis can’t think of that right now because now, he’s in _Mr. Tomlinson_ mode, and he has a few matters to set straight.

 

 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

Louis Tomlinson is a fucking dumbass whereas Mr. Tomlinson is everything but.

There was never a chance in a million where he would ever let himself get played and Harry wellbeing pushed aside.

The contract which Louis had Harry sign the first day they saw each other (again), has been destroyed since that exact day, therefore Harry Styles has been a free person ever since his original management's contract expired without him renewing it.

See, Louis' plan was, and still is, foolproof.

Louis was supposed to give James the signed contract, which he was sure would get signed, and Evelyn was simply waiting for the scheduled one-month-convincing period to be over to get it.

Evelyn never got the contract but was convinced James had it.  And James would never, ever in a million years tell her that the job fell through because of _his_ employee's incompetence because that would be just another good enough reason for Evelyn to sell her 51% of the 'Madison and James' to the highest bidder, and thus leave her cheating husband James to the wolves alone to fend for himself and his doomed-to-bankrupt life's work.

The only thing Louis had to do was take care of Harry and leave the options open for _if_ Harry decides to actually go through with the contract and go back to performing. Which obviously wasn't the case and Louis counted on that.

His bonus check along with his normal paycheck are safe in his bank account.

And he left his two weeks notice safe with Lindsey to hand in, in... two weeks ago. That timing was just pure luck.

So Evelyn calling Harry for a business meeting this soon would only mean one thing, she got tired of waiting for the contract so she'll try to finalize the deal herself.

 

Harry walks through the doors of the 'Dox' with full intention of coming to terms with the cards life has dealt him. He’s ready to go back. He hates it, but he’s ready; he made his peace with it.

He instantly sees three Armani suits sitting at a table in the back, beside two lovely looking ladies where one of them must be Evelyn, he presumes.

As soon as he said: "Good afternoon," he realized his life is going to get turned around upside down again, and there’s no chance for backing out.

"Mr. Styles, thank you for coming in at such short notice." She stands up from her chair and shakes Harry's hand above the table when he walks up to her.

"Sit down, please, I'm Evelyn, and these are my colleagues, your management team. I have some papers for you to sign..."

And Harry didn't even get to sit his ass down before the doors slammed open and Louis stormed in.

He didn't look much of a knight in shining armor, more of a sweaty madman yelling.

 "Don't sign anything Harry, please!"

And every head is turned, every jaw is open, spoons are suspended in midair, waitresses are worried for their job and the safety of the customers. Evelyn is a time bomb ticking, and Harry – well, he just looks tired.

"Mr. Tomlinson what is the meaning of this?" Evelyn takes her eyes off of Harry, narrows them and says: "I must tell you that I am aware of your involvement with my client but I assure you, my client is in good hands and he already signed the contract that allows me and my team..."

"He didn't." Louis interrupts, still out of breath.

"Oh?" she picks up her phone.

"My husband has the contract on his person as we speak, so I would like you to leave Mr. Tomlinson or I will kindly ask security to escort you out.."

Louis looks at Harry with such determination in his eyes and repeats: "He never signed a thing, and i'm sure you've grown accustomed to your husband lying to you. He never signed a goddamn thing."

Harry, caught in the crossfire, knows he's expected to say something, anything to back Louis' story up. But he did sign the contract, he remembers he did, he gave it to Louis who was supposed to forward it to...

"What if, hypothetically, what if I never signed anything? What if your husband doesn't have the contract with him?" now every eye is turned to Harry.

"Well we should remedy that at once Mr. Styles, as I am sure you know, that is in your career's best interest..."

He smiles.

"Thank you and good day Mrs. James."

He literally just smiled, shook her hand again, turned around and left the office without another word.  

"Mr. Styles wait!" she's looking at her phone, fucker probably won't answer her calls. She sounds outrageous.

"Mr. Tomlinson I _will_ get you fired for this."

"No need for that love, I already quit." And with that, he swiftly walked towards the exit of the restaurant.

 _Holy shit, did that just actually happen_ was still ringing inside of his mind as he made his way outside just to see his car drive away.

He checked his pockets while nearing his mum's car and realized he must've left his phone home. He couldn't reach Harry. He has no idea if he went home or somewhere else. But then again, where else could've he be gone to?

He hits the road and concludes his racing mind with _and that, ladies and gentlemen is how you fuck over a multimillion company for a lot more._

_James Joseph James (yes that's his full name) of 'Madison and James' law firm, and Evelyn Rachel James ex Madison from 'Jamesy' a highly prestigious management company, two of the most powerful business people in London, just got fucking owned._

_Now, about my best friend slash lover slash boyfriend slash soulmate slash whatever we are now…_

 

The last thing Louis expected to see when he got home was the exact same scene he saw this morning.

Harry's sitting on the couch, just finishing a cigarette and.. wiping his eyes on his shirtsleeve.

"I'm really sorry Haz." He immediately starts from the doorway.

"Yeah? Me too." He puts his cigarette off in the ashtray and wipes his eyes once more.

"What are you sorry for? You didn't do anything wrong..." He makes his way to sit beside Harry on the couch.

"I know. I'm sorry you lied to me."

Louis looks at him and tries to reason.

"I _never_ lied to you, I just didn't tell you everything because..."

Suddenly, Harry turns his head and searches for his lover's eyes.

"Tell me now, when did lying by omission stop counting as lying?"

"Haz.." Louis took his hands in his own and started tripping over his words, trying to mend the situation.

"I'm sorry… I needed to know for sure… I just wanted you to remain free and unsigned till you… and I couldn't fucking let myself be the one to hand you over to those freaking vultures… all I ever wanted was to protect you, I .."

There's a faint 'Thank you' heard before Harry let his kisses say the rest.

It was so sudden that Louis didn't kiss back for a whole second, before he let himself be drawn in to the clash of their mouths dancing against each other. Hungry for each other's kisses, hungry for each other's breaths, hungry for each other's love.

Hungry for more.

They kick of their shoes, and take their socks off at some point.

Their kissing grows more heated by the second, and the exploring hands are not _touching_ , they are bruising, scratching, and pulling the opposing material that stops them from properly touching each other, skin on skin, and they _really_ want to remedy that.

Harry is already half way up in Louis' lap when he says.

"Stop fucking holding back Lou."

 "I'm not." Louis answers as he lifts Harry up a bit and starts pulling down his jeans down his backside and then maneuvers them both so that he's lying on top of Harry, while still pulling his jeans down the rest of the way.

"I'm not, and you'll tell me to stop, alright?" he whispers in his ear, out of breath.

"Yeah, I promise."

Harry starts lifting Louis' t-shirt up, fast and rough, not caring if it'll tear or if he'll bruise Louis in his attempts, in fact, he's counting on that. Louis, in the midst of their kissing, actually realizes what's Harry trying to do and stops his kissing for a second and takes it off himself.

Then he starts to mark his way across Harry's neck, sucking and biting, licking and kissing the abused skin. He then pushes his hand in to the younger man's boxers and starts jerking him off in a slow, steady manner.

"Ahhh, Lou, fuck," Harry instantly goes pliant, but he buries his hands in Louis' longer-than-usual hair he constantly forgets to get cut, and pulls hard. He spreads his legs more to accommodate Louis a bit better on the too-small-for-this-kind-of-thing couch.

Louis grunts and squeezes Harry's dick in return, just a bit harder than his usual grip, just to taste the waters. And the sounds he gets are heavenly. Harry's moans become so loud, and he starts pushing into Louis' hand, and whispers: "More, Lou, fuck, harder."

So Louis obliges.

He continues his way down Harry's neck to his collarbones and starts leaving painful lovebites there too, while his hand is bringing Harry over to the edge with letting him fuck his _tight_ fist.

"You like that baby? You like it when it hurts a bit don't you? You’d like if I were a bit rough with you, love?"

Harry's lips are spilling a mantra of 'fuck's, and 'yeah's, and variations of whispering through screaming Louis' name, till his cock spills white all over their stomachs and Louis' hand.

"You did good baby, I'm so proud of you, that’s it baby..." Louis whispers a lot more praise while Harry's riding his orgasm out.

Than Louis stands up, even though Harry must think that this is over and it's cuddle time, Louis stands up and pulls Harry up to sit, and then takes his own jeans off, along with his underwear, and finally, gets on his knees in front of Harry.

"You're going to tell me if you've had enough, love, right?"

And Harry nods his head, and kisses Louis on the mouth, still dazed.

Louis lets the kiss continue for about ten minutes, so he starts touching his own dick after it has become clear there won't be release for him for a while.

"Lou.." Harry starts but Louis swallows up the rest of that sentence just as his hand makes its way up to the head of his cock to brush his thumb on the slit.

"Lou, I want to watch you." Harry gets through, so Louis, naked on his knees, just sits on his hunches and continues to pull himself off while looking at Harry's eyes that are so full of lust he might just start drooling.

Louis stops his movements and leans in to Harry's space and puts his hands on the waistband of Harry's boxers.

"Can I suck you for a bit?"

"Yes, please."

With no further ado, Louis pulls his boxers down, takes them off and throws them somewhere behind himself, just to without any warning swallow his dick till it hits the back of his throat.

"Fuck, Lou, fuck, fuck.." he sounds like crying, but if Louis could smile right now, he would.

But he has a dick in his mouth so. You know.

He starts out slow, just to torture him, he swallows him all the way down till he licks his way up and gives the head a few kitten licks. When he starts to go a bit faster, Harry's moans turn louder and his knuckles turn white while squeezing the fuck out of the edge of the couch.

He starts bucking his hips, and Louis chokes a few times, before he removes himself altogether and squeezes Harry's shaft again.

"Ahh, come on, Lou, fuck, fuck me, please, Lou.."

Louis slams their mouths together; part of the reason is to shut Harry's 'be careful what you wish for' speech up, and the other part is to let him lick out his own precum out of his mouth.

Louis could've stopped himself, but he whispers:

 "I want that too, baby, so bad, I want that too."

Harry breaks the kiss and nods his head. He takes Louis by his hands and stands them both up.

This close, with both of them naked, Harry looks so much taller and bigger, and some would even say stronger, than Louis, but it's Louis who takes his hand and reassures him with a kiss "I love you Haz, tell me you want me to make love to you."

And there hasn't ever been a thing Harry's been more sure of until now, when he nods his head affirmative and says: "I love you too, and yes, I want you to make love to me, yeah."

So Louis takes him by his hand and leads him upstairs to _their_ bedroom. He lays his lover on his back on the bed, and Harry spreads his legs wide while Louis finds the lube in the nightstand.

He gets on the bed, between Harrys legs and leans down to kiss him again; it seems they physically can't stop kissing each other for more than a minute.

"You comfortable?" he asks.

"Yeah," and Harry smiles, a genuine smile, the one Louis sees when he's playing music. His eyes are teary and his voice is just barely above a whisper when he starts speaking.

"I just can't believe that we've come this far, I, I can't believe I've come this far even though I made some great mistakes in my time, I just can't believe I let myself leave you behind, You gave me everything  while I..."

"Haz, baby, it's alright, yeah?" Louis interrupts him and kisses his forehead.

"I love you, i'll always be there for you and we're here because we're fighters, you're here because you're a fighter and you are _so_ strong, and I'm so proud of you.. "

They hug like that, bodies intertwined, kissing each other.

"And besides, I may have given you my everything, but you gave me your heart.."

"And that's enough." They both say in unison.

While Louis' eyes are full of tears, Harry let his spill freely the moment Louis asked him if he's comfortable.

Louis wipes Harry's eyes with his hand and starts kissing the trails they left across his face. Soon they're back to their original, heated kissing, and in no time Louis uncaps the lube and squeezes out as much as he deems necessary, which is a lot, on his fingers.

He trails his hand between their bodies, avoids Harry's cock that is lying full and wet on his belly, and lightly touches Harry's ass cheek. Harry instantly spreads his legs more and welcomes the pillow that Louis puts beneath his lower back.

Louis starts with light touches with his middle finger, he can feel Harry's asshole contracting, tight muscles begging for something to swallow up.

He's afraid once again that they're moving too fast.

"You alright, love?" 

"Yeah, yeah, I want this, it's alright."

Harry reassures him.

"Yeah, okay, just tell me to stop if you want me to.."

"Lou? It's alright, yeah?" And he wiggles his ass a bit on to the finger Louis is just letting rest on his sternum.

"Yeah, yeah. alright", so he moves his fingers to their original place and starts to push in the middle one. To his great relief, Harry's asshole doesn't resist the intrusion, it fucking welcomes it and begs for more. Or, that would be Harry himself, moaning and whimpering for another one.

So Louis gives it to him, and by the time he's three fingers deep inside of him, he's squeezing his own shaft tight not to come just by the sheer anticipation.

"Lou, Ahhh, Lou, I'm ready, fuck, please, please..."

And Louis would be lying if he said he didn't get off to Harry begging for a cock inside of him. in his naked glory, with his beautiful curly hair a halo on the pillow, with his legs squeezed tight around him, nipples perky, mouth open in the shape of an O, just moaning, whimpering, while his hand is slowly working his own cock.

Even if he said that, his rock hard cock might give him away.

Might.

"Ahhh, please, please, I want you inside now, Lou"

And Louis feared there would be that split second where Harry would remember someone else entirely, and close in on himself, tell him to stop, or just say he's not ready yet...

But none of that happened.

When Louis pushed his aching cock inside of Harry's he was only met with enthusiastic Harry begging for _more, harder, faster,_ and strings of _fuck, yes,_ and _Louis!_

He came all over himself and let himself be used for achieving Louis' own release.  Louis' movements turned rigid, and his toes curled, and he blacked out while he filled Harry up with his warm release.

When he finally rode it out, and pulled out, Harry kissed him, soft and tender, and said "I want to come again."

"Baby, three times might be one time too many.." Louis' protective mode was on.

"Please, finger me till I kick and scream, I want to come again."

"Whatever you want, love.. Can you get on all fours, baby?"

Harry obliged. He turned around and spread his legs, leaving his fucked out, cum dripping, asshole on display; head bowed down and buried in the pillows.

"Spread your cheeks, okay?"

"Mhmm."

The moment he spread them Louis started licking his cum out of him. He was licking, and slurping, and fucking his tongue in and out so fast his jaw ached by the time Harry started to scream and let go of his ass cheeks to pull his own hair, _and_ Louis' hair. And try to squeeze his legs shut.

He couldn't shut them of course. Louis started fingering him again, started out with two and worked his way to four by squeezing his little finger inside. It was a tight fit but the moans that emitted from Harry were so damn worth it.

Louis started to jerk himself off with his right hand then; what a picture Harry made, he could go for a round two himself.

"Wish you could see this, you're taking me so good, baby, fuck. Do you think you could handle five?"

And at that Harry screams out this beautiful, broken moan and comes with his hand on his cock. He doesn’t give himself much time to recover. He turns himself quickly back on his back and brings Louis down to another post orgasmic kiss. Louis soon comes himself, all over Harry's belly and chest.

They kiss like that for a long time. With their cum drying on their sweaty skin, and the mess they made out of the bed. They stay like that, in each other's embrace, before Louis deems it necessary to clean themselves and change the sheets.

Which he does slowly with a wet rag, careful not to irritate Harry's skin further. He changes the sheets quickly while Harry gets them their pajamas which they put on between the kisses they can't stop exchanging.

After that it's easy to fall asleep.

 When you're with someone you love, someone who loves you back, it's easy to say that it's alright, and that it is still going to be alright, even after you wake up.

 

 

 

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End file.
